Through his whole body something ran;
A most strange working did I see;
-As if he strove to be a man,
That he might pull the sledge for me.
And then he stretch'd his arms, how wild!
Oh mercy! like a helpless child.
My little joy! my little pride!
In two days more I must have died.
Then do not weep and grieve for me;
I feel I must have died with thee.
Oh wind, that o'er my head art flying
The way my friends their course did bend,
I should not feel the pain of dying,
Could I with thee a message send!
Too soon, my friends, ye went away;
For I had many things to say.
I'll follow you across the snow;
Ye travel heavily and slow;
In spite of all my weary pain,
I'll look upon your tents again.
-My fire is dead, and snowy white
The water which beside it stood;
The wolf has come to me to-night,
And he has stolen away my food.
For ever left alone am I,
Then wherefore shall I fear to die?
THE LAST OF THE FLOCK.
IN distant countries have I been,
And yet I have not often seen
A healthy man, a man full grown,
Weep in the public roads alone.
But such a one, on English ground,
And in the broad highway, I met;
Along the broad highway he came,
His cheeks with tears were wet;
Sturdy he seem'd, though he was sad;
And in his arms a lamb he had.
He saw me, and he turn'd aside,
As if he wish'd himself to hide :
Then with his coat he made essay
To wipe those briny tears away.
I follow'd him, and said, "My friend,
What ails you-wherefore weep you so?"
-"Shame on me, sir! this lusty lamb,
He makes my tears to flow.
To-day I fetch'd him from the rock;
He is the last of all my flock.
"When I was young, a single man,
And after youthful follies ran,
Though little given to care and thought,
Yet, so it was, a ewe I bought;
And other sheep from her I raised,
As healthy sheep as you might see;
And then I married, and was rich
As I could wish to be;
Of sheep I number'd a full score,
And every year increased my store.
"Year after year my stock it grew;
And from this one, this single ewe,
Full fifty comely sheep I raised,
As sweet a flock as ever grazed!
Upon the mountain did they feed,
They throve, and we at home did thrive.
-This lusty lamb, of all my store,
Is all that is alive;
And now I care not if we die,
And perish all of poverty.
"Six children, sir! had I to feed ;
Hard labour in a time of need!
My pride was tamed, and in our grief
I of the parish ask'd relief.
They said I was a wealthy man ;
My sheep upon the mountain fed,
And it was fit that thence I took
Whereof to buy us bread.
'Do this: how can we give to you,'
They cried, 'what to the poor is due?'
"I sold a sheep, as they had said,
And bought my little children bread,
And they were healthy with their food;
For me, it never did me good.
A woeful time it was for me,
To see the end of all my gains,
The pretty flock which I had rear'd
With all my care and pains,
To see it melt like snow away!
For me it was a woeful day.
"Another still! and still another!
A little lamb, and then its mother
It was a vein that never stopp'd
Like blood-drops from my heart they dropp'd.
Till thirty were not left alive,
They dwindled, dwindled, one by one,
And I may say, that many a time
I wish'd they all were gone :
They dwindled one by one away;
For me it was a woeful day.
"To wicked deeds I was inclined,
And wicked fancies cross'd my mind;
And every man I chanced to see,
I thought he knew some ill of me.
No peace, no comfort could I find,
No ease, within doors or without;
And crazily, and wearily,
I went my work about.
Oft-times I thought to run away;
For me it was a woeful day.
"Sir; 'twas a precious flock to me,
As dear as my own children be;
For daily, with my growing store,
I loved my children more and more.
Alas! it was an evil time;
God cursed me in my sore distress;
I pray'd, yet every day I thought
I loved my children less;
And every week and every day,
My flock it seem'd to melt away.
They dwindled, sir, sad sight to see!
From ten to five, from five to three,
A lamb, a wether, and a ewe-
And them, at last, from three to two;
And, of my fifty, yesterday
I had but only one;
And here it lies upon my arm,
Alas! and I have none;
To-day I fetch'd it from the rock;
It is the last of all my flock."
THERE is a change-and I am poor;
Your love hath been, nor long ago,
A fountain at my fond heart's door,
Whose only business was to flow;
And flow it did; not taking heed
Of its own bounty, or my need.
What happy moments did I count !
Bless'd was I then, all bliss above!
Now, for this consecrated fount
Of murmuring, sparkling, living love,
What have I-shall I dare to tell?
A comfortless and hidden WELL.
A well of love-it may be deep;
I trust it is, and never dry;
What matter? if the waters sleep
In silence and obscurity.
-Such change, and at the very door
Of my fond heart, hath made me poor.
WHEN Ruth was left half-desolate,
Her father took another mate;
And Ruth, not seven years old,
A slighted child, at her own will
Went wand'ring over dale and hill,
In thoughtless freedom bold.
And she had made a pipe of straw,
And from that oaten pipe could draw
All sounds of winds and floods;
Had built a bower upon the green,
As if she from her birth had been
An infant of the woods.
Beneath her father's roof, alone
She seem'd to live; her thoughts her own; Herself her own delight:
Pleased with herself, nor sad, nor gay,
She pass'd her time; and in this way
Grew up to woman's height.
There came a youth from Georgia's shore,
A military casque he wore
With splendid feathers dress'd;
He brought them from the Cherokees;
The feathers nodded in the breeze,
And made a gallant crest.
From Indian blood you deem him sprung: Ah! no, he spake the English tongue
And bore a soldier's name;
And, when America was free
From battle and from jeopardy,
He 'cross the ocean came.
With hues of genius on his cheek,
In finest tones the youth could speak.
-While he was yet a boy,
The moon, the glory of the sun,
And streams that murmur as they run,
Had been his dearest joy.
He was a lovely youth! I guess
The panther in the wilderness
Was not so fair as he;
And, when he chose to sport and play,
No dolphin ever was so gay
Upon the tropic sea.
Among the Indians he had fought;
And with him many tales he brought
Of pleasure and of fear;
Such tales as, told to any maid
By such a youth, in the green shade,
Were perilous to hear.
He told of girls, a happy rout!
Who quit their fold with dance and shout,
Their pleasant Indian town,
To gather strawberries all day long;
Returning with a choral song
When daylight is gone down.
He spake of plants divine and strange
That every hour their blossoms change,
Ten thousand lovely hues !
With budding, fading, faded flowers,
They stand the wonder of the bowers,
From morn to evening dews.
He told of the magnolia,* spread
High as a cloud, high over head!
The cypress and her spire,
-Of flowerst that with one scarlet gleam
Cover a hundred leagues, and seem
To set the hills on fire.
The youth of green savannahs spake
And many an endless, endless lake,
With all its fairy crowds
Of islands, that together lie
As quietly as spots of sky
Among the evening clouds.
And then he said, "How sweet it were
A fisher or a hunter there,
A gard'ner in the shade,
Still wandering with an easy mind
To build a household fire, and find
A home in every glade!
"What days and what sweet years! Ah me!
Our life were life indeed, with thee
So pass'd in quiet bliss,
And all the while," said he, "to know
That we were in a world of woe,
On such an earth as this!"
And then he sometimes interwove
Dear thoughts about a father's love;
"For there," said he, "are spun
Around the heart such tender ties,
That our own children to our eyes
Are dearer than the sun.
"Sweet Ruth! and could you go with me
My helpmate in the woods to be,
Our shed at night to rear;
run, my own adopted bride,
A sylvan huntress at my side,
And drive the flying deer!
The splendid appearance of these scarlet flowers, which are scattered with such profusion over the hills in the southern parts of North America, is frequently mentioned by Bartram in his travels.
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